


Grim Keeper

by Hollow_Fan_Soul_55



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Afterlife, Death, Multi, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Undead, grim – characters, time is skewed
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-12
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 01:25:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17757170
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hollow_Fan_Soul_55/pseuds/Hollow_Fan_Soul_55
Summary: Prompt from glorianas.tumblr.com“There is a belief in some folklore that the first person buried in a cemetery stays there, and doesn’t cross over. Instead, they stay behind to help other spirits move on and to protect them from evil spirits. Now naturally, people want to avoid this fate for their loved ones and themselves, so they would bury a dog first and then it would return in the shape of a big black dog to protect the newly dead from evil spirits and occasionally the living as well. …This kind of spirit is called the church Grim.”Response from amemait.tumblr.com“You mean it's called a good doggie.”Grim has been here alongtime. Grim doesn’t remember what he was called in life, but he knows that humans still need Grim. Grim protects the Afters from the Bad and the humans who want to hurt the Afters’ bodies.Grim fails his sole duty because the universe breaks, so now Grim follows and Grim will protect until the one that didn’t stay an Afters passes on once again. This Afters is called Jason.Jason then calls Grim…Tim.





	1. Duty to the Grave

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grim is faithful. He sits, and he lays, and he watches the graveyard he was buried in first. He does not mind, for if the humans need Grim even after death, Grim will do his best to protect his Afters from the spirits called Bads and other bad humans.
> 
> _And in times of quiet and loneliness, Grim will watch over the **living** too._

Grim had stayed here for countless centuries, so long that he does not remember the name he had been gifted before he _became_ Grim. Grim does not mind. No, he does not. He is _proud_ to help his humans pass to the Other.

He had risen the night of a full moon, the clouds covering the sky except to send a beam down onto his grave and the newly covered graves around him, his body small and new. He stood and shook, nearly falling over with the force of the action, his head too big to fit the rest of him.

For a moment Grim thinks he is alone, and for a while he is. Only a few days, he believes. And then Grim is not alone. He had watched from afar as his new family stood near his resting place marked only with brown dirt. Now there is a gravestone, and that night……a spectral spirit floating beside it, her head bowed in sorrow.

“~Welcome, passing Afters, Lorin,~” Grim barks from a place of knowledge he knows not how he gained, trotting up on unsteady limbs to the lady of flowing silks and tall stature. “~Allow me to lead you to the afterlife, the Other, and bring you peace.~”

Afters Lorin inclines her head, sharp blue eyes focused on Grim, “~I thank thee, oh great Grim, for thy assistance would be most appreciated in these trying times.~”

Afters Lorin of Waynemoor was the first to transverse the astral trail by his side, to walk along the gilded white stone amongst the stars of old — and she was the first to bow her head at the golden gates of the Other toward the Grim protector of the Wayne mausoleum inside the small town of Gotham’s new cemetery.

When he returned Grim would lie down across the grass and the stone steps leading to his graveyard as years passed, allowing the human guards or passersby to pet his head and feed him slips of meat as generations passed and the rolling hills became fenced as the small town became a sprawling city and then became something darker.

And every time an Afters was buried to his family, he would guide them to the gate of Other.

Twelve generations down and Martha and Thomas Wayne were Afters of troubled thoughts, floating behind their son for days rather than move on the night after they were buried. Their young son, Bruce, had and would continue to come to the doors and weep into Grim as he sat against the boy’s side. His form was that of young, a new cycle had begun with Bruce’s own birth, which made him still easy to wrap up in the young ten-year-old’s arms.

It was the dusk on the third day after young Bruce had wept with Alfred Pennyworth standing vigil behind him that a Bads arrived — a malicious spirit who lumbered in with a body of black smoke and groans of the agonized departed. Black smog flowed down from its shoulders and left slight rot in its wake as it lurched forward on legs that were not corporeal.

Grim tilts his head back and howls a warning, alerting the other three grims of Gotham Cemetery to the intruder. The gargoyles on the gate screech and scream in haunting tandem, causing the creature of the undead to flinch and distort around the edges.

It does not turn back, however, and Grim will not stand for that. He plants his legs apart, hunches his shoulders, and _snarls_ deep from his chest. “~You are trespassing on sacred land, foul beast!~”

The creature does not pause, though Grim did not expect the body of his adolescent Great Dane form to strike fear into it no matter how large he truly was. It is quite a good thing Grim is not alone.

The larger body of an Irish Wolfhound crashes through the brush as if summoned, a booming echo of a bark sounding just as the second form of a smaller Leonberger leaped over a grand headstone to growl. The last grim to arrive is an adolescent Great Pyrenees, fur a spiral of ink pressing against Grim’s side.

Each of their black pelts blends with the darkened night, large and imposing, yet the creature still does not halt in its path. Hound-grim steps forward, head low, teeth bared, and amber eyes flashing. “~We shall give thee one final warning, lest you turn tail now and remove thyself from this graveyard, we shall rid thee ourselves.~”

The corrupted spirit lurches forward, letting out a garbled scream as its yellowed teeth elongate and it rushes forward.

“~Ya leave us with no choice, bucko!~” Leon-grim croons, shooting forward with a yowl and violet eyes that leave trails in the dark, latching their jaw around the upper part of the creature’s leg as they plant their paws into the ground. Hound-grim flies through the air a second later and body-slams the spirit to latch onto its hip as Pyre-grim grabs its stretched arm with a vicious snarl, yanking it toward to the ground.

The spirit lets out a torturous scream, thrashing and throwing itself back away from the other grims with sharp, desperate movements. In its struggle, the cloak over its corrupt heart cracks open to reveal Grim’s opening. He darts forward and pushes off of Pyre-grim’s back, jaws locking over the exposed red-heat of its power source resting in the left side of its chest as he sails past them and into the shrubbery.

The Bads lets out a final bellow before bursting with grey light that fades to nothing. Grim swallows down the blistering heat just as Martha and Thomas float forward, now safe from harm as the other grims bid their farewells. The Bads was most likely drawn to their residing spirits.

“~Thank you, dear,~” Martha calls, running her hand over his head in gratitude as she had been doing for the past days. Thomas nods by her side, wrapping an arm around his mate’s shoulder to bring her closer.

“~Would it be too much to ask you to watch over Bruce for us?~” Thomas asks, glancing over at Martha. Murder victims always worry more than others, especially when they have children. “~Don’t worry, just until he settles on his feet.~”

Grim tilts his head to the side before he gives a nod. “~I would not mind, Afters, but at this point, we must not dally. Your arrival has been stalled for long enough. So welcome, passing Afters, Martha, and Thomas. Allow me to lead you to the afterlife, the Other, and bring you peace.~”

The two cross into the Other without trouble and Grim is sent back to the graveyard with a new mission. Since it does get rather lonely with no spirits to keep watch over, only the deep, hidden bodies. But he cannot simply abandon his post. Thankfully, Pyre-grim agrees to watch over Grim’s Afters’ bodies while he is away, and he thanks them with a lick to the snout and bump to their shoulder.

The next day when Bruce comes to visit, Grim follows him home. He grows with Bruce, watching and training with him under the watchful eye of Alfred as he changes and finds his place as a protector of the night, but leaves once Bruce no longer needs him and his time as a semi-believable dog is up.

Of course, Grim returns to comfort Dick Grayson –whose parents do not rest within his care but his new boy would eventually– when the calling comes. He is much more energetic than Bruce had ever been for the time Grim is there, and he then repeats the cycle for Jason once the street boy arrives.

Tragedy strikes when Grim returns to his duty too soon for Jason, and he cries over the loss in secret with Bruce and Dick who have stopped their senseless fighting toward one another for the burial.

……Something changes that night, and Grim **fails.** Now he must right his wrong. _Whatever it takes._


	2. Not All Here

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jason Todd is dead, that is something Grim must come to terms with. Or rather, he would have had to, if the universe didn’t decide to mess up by shoving the Afters of his boy back into his broken body only for it to get stolen. Now if Jason would just _remember Grim_ and not die again along the way, that would be great. Grim wants a nap.

Grim lopes up to the newest grave, head hanging low as he whines in anguish. His core beats slow and lethargic in his chest, a burning lead running his veins. From the corner of his eye, he watches as Pyre-grim moves forward. They press against his side, resting their head atop his own in comfort as they had done each new cycle after they too were buried and became a grim. They have always been so motherly to all the grims despite being the youngest.

The most recent cycle happened rather recently. It was black when Dick was fourteen that Grim had suddenly reverted to the beginning of his cycle –already six years ago– folding in on itself until he was back to looking like a three-month-old puppy. He had been alone and confused in that moment, left to shake out gangly limbs he was long ago used to falling back into without warning.

He knew that he would stay as a three-month-old until the newest generation of those buried here reached three months, too. He would follow their growth not in terms of years but in terms of stages. From a toddler to a child, followed by a young adolescent, adolescent, and then adult.

But he didn’t know why –still doesn’t– since he believed Bruce has only adopted and never had a child of his own. To this day still doesn’t know what caused the rebirth, but he had luckily been alone at the time.

With Dick well on his way and Bruce back on his feet, Grim had left to avoid conflict.

He had had no such reason to do so with Jason and yet…

Grim is deep in thought when Pyre-grim’s voice starts soft and warm as they speak. “~You grow too attached with these pups, little dane. This is not healthy for you, as you know full well.~”

“~But I can’t just leave them, Pyre-grim.~ Grim says quietly, not looking to them. ~“I made a promise– a _vow_ that I would stay with Bruce when needed help back on his feet. He will need me now more than ever…~”

Pyre-grim sighs heavily as they lick a stripe over his cheek to catch his attention before retreating a step toward their own crypt of the Sionis family that never does see much action in death. “~You are not alone in this, Dane-grim, remember that.~”

“~I will,~” Grim agrees solemnly, licking their snout in return before glancing up at the color of the setting sun on the low clouds over Gotham. They look ready to weep, mourning the souls of its losses as they pass to the Other. A storm is brewing, he can scent the rain in the wind and the heaviness of the air in his fur.

As the last color fades and deep darkness falls, a soft white light blips into existence before Grim, growing larger and more uniform until Jason’s translucent form is recognizable. He stands there, head bowed and eyes closed…his face serene as the wind whistles around them.

…And then he screams, his form flickering violent red that sparks black as he spasms and crumbles to his knees, head in his hands as he _wails._ Grim leaps forward in an instant, pushing against Jason’s side to calm him while licking his cheek with warm swipes.

Jason snaps his head to him, wide eyes crackling white and frightened as he breathes heavily with nonexistent lungs, panting and scared from his no-longer-attacker. Such a violent death for someone only fifteen years into life.

The haze of fear is pushed out by confusion in his blue eyes as Jason clenches his fist in the short fur along Grim’s shoulder, his form stabilizing slightly. “~Chili?~” Jason gasps, sounding terribly confused at the sudden appearance of his long-lost companion. “~What are you _doing_ here? Joker,~” he gasps sharply, form flickering again as he clutches to Grim tighter. “~ _Where’s Joker!?_ Shit, you’re gonna get hurt–~”

Grim pulls away from the familiar embrace with reluctance. “~Welcome, passing Afters, Jason,~” Grim says forlornly. Jason leaps backward with a string of shouted curses, standing halfway in his own headstone as he falls into a defensive stance. “~Allow me to lead you to the afterlife, the Other, and bring you peace.~”

~Holy _shit,_ ” Jason says loudly. “I have **got** to be dreaming!”

“~Unfortunately this is all too real, Jason.~” Grim says, trotting over to nudge him fully out of the headstone. Jason looks at where he was standing with wide, haunted eyes.

It clicks. “~I’m dead,~” Jason breathes, hands clenching and unclenching by his side. As if sensing his agitation the clouds above release their load, soaking Grim to the bones that he does not feel and falls straight through Jason.

“~Yes,~” Grim confirms, pushing against his leg as he had when Grim was Chili, and as Grim had done when he was Bat –he fears he may have been Bruce’s first casualty thanks to the bat in the curtains. He likes to let people think Dick as Robin made most of the names, and while he did contribute greatly, Bruce had already started– and Pooch as well. Creative names, he’s sure. You could not fault mourning children.

“~I am Grim, the guardian of the Wayne family mausoleum and all those who are buried within its sacred ground.~”

“~I’m really, honest to fuck dead!~” Jason’s form flickers vibrant red again as his face contorts in anger. “~Bruce didn’t save me!?~” Grim moves to calm him again, soothing words of how his first boy had tried so very hard, when _it_ happens.

Lightning cracks overhead, slamming into the towering angel over Jason’s grave and sending the sodden dirt and surrounding trees into harsh white light, followed by a terrible boom of thunder that shakes the world.

Grim jolts away from the strike, a yelp clogged in his throat as the wind howls more violently around them, causing the rain to blend together in a harsh sheet of near-diagonal pellets that run off his fur without feeling anything besides his fur soaking down more. Jason _does_ yelp, flying back several feet as he fade–

_Why is he fading!?_

“~Chili!?~” Jason shrieks, instantly bursting white at the seams with a soundless scream before the world is plunged into darkness once again.

“~Jason, where did you go!? _Jason!!_ ~” Not even a second later does Grim’s ears perk forward at the faint sound of screaming and banging.

He tilts his head, trying to pinpoint where it’s coming from, lost because everywhere is empty around him. It doesn’t take long for him to eye the dirt that’s pulsing faintly as if someone were……as if someone were _banging on it._

Grim charges forward and starts _digging,_ paws tearing up great clumps of the sodden ground as he howls, shaking water from his eyes. Jason’s efforts redouble as he calls out for help. It does not take long for Grim to reach the expensively carved tomb, and then for his wide paws to tear through it as if it were warm butter.

Jason’s eyes stare up at him, glazed with frenzied panic as his hands tear into the wood along with Grim as if he does not feel the splinters creating blood being is washed away by rain. The second Grim gets enough room for Jason to squeeze his shoulders out that is exactly what he does, pulling at Grim’s neck and head as he is used for leverage to pull his lower body out.

Jason was completely out of it, eyes closed as he murmured and panted out Bruce’s name, shivering against the water soaking his suit. His body was now leaking blood from wounds that had reopened, Grim could smell it, and Grim could see the thin casts over his broken bones were crumbling away under the torrent of rain– leaving limbs to bend at unnatural angles as he tried to crawl out of the six-feet-deep hole.

~“Jason, you need to calm down–”~

“No bark, bark, bark!” Jason groans loopily, peeling an eye open to squint at Grim as his arms continue to claw at the mud around them. Grim sighs heavily, hiding his own core’s pain once he realizes Jason could no longer understand him or recognize him in his muddled state.

Grim used his body to slide under Jason, easily lifting him from the ground. Jason makes a startled groan-hiccup as he wraps his arms tightly to Grim’s neck. Grim wastes no time pulling Jason’s body out of the ground, letting his boy slide to the ground when they reach the top mere seconds before his arms would have given out.

Jason looks around from where he’s seated, now uncaring of his wounds or mud and rain as he resumes his calls for Bruce. Grim nudges Jason’s face to keep him from moving, welcoming the familiar feel of hands on his shoulder. With another sigh, Grim shrinks down to roughly twenty-four inches in order to catch his full attention. ~“Come on, let’s get you to Bru–”~

Just like he planned, Jason is watching him with wide-eyed fascination, momentarily forgetting his calls to Bruce. And then, just like a little kid, he pulls Grim against his body and squeezes. Grim lets out a startled yip nonetheless, though he is lax in the boy’s grip, tail thumping when it makes Jason giggle.

Well, plans never do go flawlessly, now do they? Being brought back from an Afters must be confusing and disorienting, so Grim could hardly blame Jason.

Unfortunately, it is at that moment that he smells it. The strongest being the smell of an old ancient, like that of a Bad, which has Grim whipping to face the intruders. It is not an undead leading the pack, which is why the gargoyles did not screech a warning.

It is a tall man with a light hanging at his hip, dressed in rich satin green and golds that is making his way forward, uncaring of the rain or flashes of lightning when he is under his large umbrella with his constant light source.

Grim hates that he recognizes this bad man from Bruce’s extensive training. Ra’s al Ghul, head of the League of Assassins, and swimmer of the pits.

Grim snarls as loudly as his small four-month-old body could manage, causing Jason to jerk back in surprise. Grim takes that moment to shimmy out of Jason’s arms to plant himself in front of his boy, shoulders hunched and tail straight. He can’t revert now with a human truly watching, let alone this particular ancient one, but he also can’t leave Jason alone.

al Ghul makes an amused hum deep in his throat as he watches them, green eyes trained on Jason rather than Grim. Good, he does not recognize him.

“Well well well, if the little Robin didn’t find himself a little guard dog like the Detective?” the man crouches down on his heels, eyes now trained on Grim as he snarls again, moving in-step with every crawl Jason makes towards the direction of Wayne Manor. While he wishes Jason wouldn’t aggravate his wounds, staying is as bad of an idea.

~“You will not harm him, al Ghul!”~ Grim snaps, his teeth gnashing when the man reaches out a hand. The man does not heed his warning, instead, he straightens to a stand and continues forward.

Grim uses al Ghul’s unguarded dismissal of what he thinks is a normal dog to his advantage. After all, al Ghul may have six-hundred years to his name, but Grim has many more.

Which is why he goes down _hard_ as Grim slams into his knees, taking them out from under him.

The man lets out an undignified shout, slamming face-first into the ground for a second before rolling back to his feet with an air of rumpled regalness. The front of his clothes are now caked and dripping mud and water, and the man’s neatly trimmed face is contorted from its former pleasant expression.

He hisses lowly, eyes flaring a brighter green. Grim can sense a far-off madness crawling up the man’s throat and limbs, clogging the air with its stench. The man moves fast, but not fast enough to evade Grim’s defense. His jaws clamp down through al Ghul’s wrist –the closest thing such a small two-foot-body could reach– that was outstretched toward Jason, thick hot blood bubbles down his throat as al Ghul grunts and tries to throw him off with little success.

His body is whipped from side to side, but it isn’t until something cold and hard slides through his neck with a burning chill that he lets go, choking on the metal in his throat as al Ghul throws Grim’s body to the side. He hacks, his body crashing into the ground with eyes wide as something long and silver stays embedded in the side of his neck. He’s been stabbed.

“I didn’t want to hurt you, mutt,” the man sighs, sounding calm once again as he holds Jason back from moving toward Grim with his foot. “But the Detective needs to learn a lesson, and Jason is the one piece I still need.”

The man motions to the shadows and the other intruders flow out to their master’s beckoning. They are normal humans dressed in black, not dipped in madness though well-trained.

As the four of them struggle to scoop a thrashing Jason into their combined arms and start making their way out of the graveyard, al Ghul makes his way over with a casual air, ripping the knife from his neck in an action that tears out his throat. “Rest in peace,” the man mocks, following after his men without looking back.

Grim locks onto his scent and his boy’s, his body struggling to his feet as it mends in seconds now that it was not melting the metal down inside of him. He wobbles, shaking his head as he howls his departure in a tone no mortals can hear to the other grims before he darts after his kidnapped boy.

As he does, he knows al Ghul will notice something wrong if he were to change his form to fit his current full size, so he refrains. That’s why when his boy is being put into the back of an expensive black car, Grim takes very little time to pop open the trunk and slide in.

He is no match for the car in his current state so he will follow his boy until he can get him back to his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just gonna post chapters as I complete them, so there's going to be no scheduled whatsoever for any of you actually reading this....

**Author's Note:**

> Not sure how good this concept is or my execution, so if y'all want me to write more just let me know and I'll try my best!~


End file.
